Chapter 145: A Forty-Year Reunion
The arrival of Rhodes and Serie drew the attention of some of the dwarves.
"Who are you?" they asked, their eyes wary.
"We're here to see Somme. Could you please inform him?"
"We can. But we'll need your names first."
Rhodes and Serie exchanged a look, and she gave a slight nod. "This is Serie," he said, "and the holy sword at her waist is the legendary elven Holy Right Sword, Athos."
She had been carrying it with her ever since. She clearly just thought of it as an accessory; she had never drawn it. But even so, the aura it gave off was enough to mark it as one of the legendary swords of the elves.
At the mention of her name, the dwarves' wary expressions were instantly replaced with a mixture of ecstasy and awe.
"The elven Saint, Lady Serie!? By the gods, I can't believe I'm seeing the legendary Holy Right Sword, Athos, with my own eyes!"
"Lady Serie! Please, let us see the true form of Athos!"
Seeing the fanaticism in their eyes, Rhodes was glad he had wrapped Org in cloth. Otherwise, they would have probably been even more excited. And our elven miss... she was clearly not used to this kind of attention. She shot him a helpless, pleading look.
"Gentlemen," he said, stepping in front of her, "could you please go and get Somme now?"
But no one answered him. Their attention was completely fixed on the legendary sword.
"Human boy, can't you convince Lady Serie to draw the sword for us? Just a peek!"
He just smiled and said nothing. He knew that for them, it would be more than just a "peek."
"By the way," one of the dwarves said, "isn't the only human who travels with Lady Serie the great Lord Rhodes? Could you be him!?"
"No! It's not me! You've got the wrong person," he quickly denied. He had no desire to be mobbed by a group of muscle-bound dwarves.
But then, another dwarf came to his rescue. "Are you an idiot? Lord Rhodes is a human. It's been over forty years. How could he still be so young!?"
"What if he knows a youth-preserving spell?"
The dwarves were now chattering like a group of old women at a market. He and Serie were both starting to get a headache.
But fortunately, the commotion had drawn the attention of the person they had come to see.
"What are you all doing? Get back to the forges!"
A stocky dwarf walked over. The face was still recognizable, but the childish features had been replaced by a mature and seasoned expression. He wore a suit of shining Mithril armor, and on his chest was a complex, golden insignia. And, to Rhodes's great amusement, he now had a magnificent, red beard, a beard so perfect it was a textbook example of dwarven facial hair.
"Somme!?"
He had been prepared, but to see the beardless, ostracized boy of his memories now transformed into such a magnificent figure... it was still a shock.
His voice should have been lost in the din of the forge, but it was as if Somme had sensed something, and he looked their way. His eyes fell on them, and they, too, widened in surprise.
"Rho-Rhodes!? And Miss Serie!?"
His voice trembled, and he stood frozen for a long moment. The entire hall fell silent, and all the dwarves looked at their stunned crown prince. A few, however, were now looking at Rhodes with an even more intense, fiery gaze.
Somme finally broke out of his stupor, pushed his way through the crowd, and ran to them.
"It really is you!" he said, and pulled Rhodes into a hug, a hug so tight it made him wince. "I knew it! I knew you wouldn't die so easily!"
"Cough, cough! I can't breathe!"
He pretended to be in distress, and Somme immediately let go. "Miss Serie," he said, turning to her, "it's been a long time."
"It has. You've matured a lot."
Hearing their crown prince confirm their identities, the dwarves' gazes grew even more fervent, and some of them were now staring at the cloth-wrapped sword at his waist. Before, their attention had been on Athos, and they hadn't noticed. But now... that young human man was the legendary god-slayer, Rhodes.
"Your Highness! Can't you ask your friend to let us see Org!?"
"Yes! It's the greatest masterpiece of our people! If I could just see it once, I could die happy!"
"Hahaha! That's not up to me," he said with a laugh, and then, without another word, he led them away from the Great Forge and to his own palace. Along the way, he excitedly introduced them to his friends. "This is Rhodes, the wielder of Org! And Lady Serie, the Elven Saint!"
And so, his secret was out. There was nothing he could do about it.
In his palace, Somme poured them all a glass of juice and began to eagerly tell them of his adventures over the past few years.
After the final battle, he had returned to the Dwarven Kingdom. His own clan had moved there after the king's summons. And with the reputation he had earned, and the beard-growing spell Rhodes had left him, he had slowly gained the respect of his people.
The old Dwarven King's own son had died in the war years ago. He had held a tournament, to choose a new heir, and Somme had been the victor. "The succession ceremony is next month!" he said, slapping his thigh, his beard trembling with excitement. "You all have to be there!"
Rhodes was silent for a moment, then he said softly, "Somme... we just came from Norne. He's... gone."
The atmosphere in the room froze.
The smile on Somme's face faded, and he slowly put down his cup. "He's gone?" his excited voice was now a low whisper.
"Yes," he nodded. "Before he left, he asked me... if he had been a good king."
Tears welled up in Somme's eyes. "That fool... of course he was. There was no better king than him."
(End of chapter)
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